


Stranger Banger

by Degeneracy_Cave



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Don't Read This, M/M, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Degeneracy_Cave/pseuds/Degeneracy_Cave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk parties and random strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Banger

He wasn't gay. Donk told himself that. He was perfectly straight. Straighter than an arrow. So straight you could get paper cuts hugging him.

He wasn't gay.

The party was already booming when he showed up, invitation in hand. There were already a few people draped across the front lawn, and the sun hadn't even set.

He knocked on the front door and introduced himself after stepping inside, the first person to open it a grumpy looking mountain goat who gave him a brief smirk before turning around and vanishing back into the crowd. The door slammed closed behind him.

He mingled in the party, awkward at first with the crowd of strangers but after slamming down a few drinks he became more at ease with the mob of people.

He wasn't gay when he found himself dancing with a little fox stranger to the beat of the band's songs. They twirled around and laughed, and Donk swore he felt the fox brush against him in ways that sent shivers up his spine and chills down his back, but when he looked his drunk mind didn't see a hint of contact. An hour of dancing and talking and suddenly he was out of breath, face to face with the little fox who has stolen his evening in a drunken heist.

He wasn't gay when the fox grabbed him by the back of the head and took him in for a deep kiss, his mind resisting for only a few moments before he gave in, the kiss quickly becoming sloppy. The rational part of his mind told him that this was wrong, that he was being watched, and he tried to pry his eyes open to see the horrified gazes of strangers and the flash of camera phones as people documented his depravity. The rest of his mind decided that fox tongue tasted nice. When they fell apart from each other gasping for breath his eyes darted around the crowd around him, but it was if they were invisible. He watched with a terrified look for the crowd to suddenly part and the face of someone he knew to emerge and being taunting him for his actions, but it was a sea of ignorant strangers. He saw for only a brief moment the smirking visage of the goat, before the hugging presence at his chest suddenly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away.

He wasn't gay when they stumbled up the stairs, the fox dragging him along in a chase for an unlocked door to a more private setting. His mind begged his body to stop. He was twice the size of this little fox and hooves made wonderful punching instruments, but here he was being dragged along to something he swore he'd never have any part of. One doorknob yielded, opened a portal to his doom, and sealed shut behind him.

He wasn't gay when they crashed onto the sheets, mouths interlocked in more kisses, only taking a few moments to gasp for breath before diving right back in. Their paws (or hooves) traveled across their bodies exploring what was certain soon to be a very intimate surface. He wasn't sure how his shirt came off but the grasp of paws against his chest was the only warning he got before he shoved the fox away from him.

"I'm not gay," he stated, as if that sentence would wind back the clock and erase the last few minutes of time like an artist erasing an error on his drawing. The fox didn't look like that sentence even bothered him.

"Of course not," he purred, his half lidded eyes traveling across Donk's body like he was a little bunny being hunted millions of years ago. "Neither am I, you know?" Donk got half a second to smell the alcohol on his breath before their lips locked again, and he was trapped. He closed his eyes and ran his hooves across his impromptu lover's back. The sudden jingling in the room alerted him that his belt was being freed of its coil, but suddenly his mind stopped caring as a paw slipped down his pants.

He mind must have been more inebriated than he thought, because he blinked and suddenly he was laying on his back as a fox he just met pecked his dick with sweet little toothy smiles, traveling all the way to the top to give one final caress before he took the length down his throat. Donk let out a gasp as the fox bobbed his head up and down, swirling his tongue around the head of his prick each time he came up to the top. Each motion elected a short gasp of pleasure from him, and he laid a hoof on the foxes head trying to grab for more. The fox said nothing, keeping steady eye contact through every motion.

His mind drowned in bliss and he lost sense of time as suddenly he groaned in near release, but the Fox pulled away, taking deep breaths to regain his stamina. Saliva and pre dripped from his mouth and down Donk's member, and the fox licked his lips once before giving a toothy grin.

"As much as I'm sure you're having a lot of fun, lets not keep this whole experience one sided, shall we?" Donk could only give a hasty nod as the fox crawled up into his lap again and the two fell back against the bed kissing. He swore he could taste his own fluids in the foxes mouth, but his mind had long since stopped caring.

They broke contact once again, and the fox turned around brushing his tail across his face. He squatted above his lap, lining up the slick member into his rear, and Donk could only gasp as the fox slowly lowered himself onto the member. He halted halfway down, giving out a few gasps of pleasure as he struggled with the new mass within him. They sat there for a minute, waiting for things to adjust for the new presence on the battlefield.

Without warning the fox pulled himself up, leaving only the tip inside, before sliding back down with a squishy sound. He let out a long moan of pleasure, gritting his teeth and grinding on the shaft a little. Donk could only lay there, head propped up against the headboard of the bed as he watched the show in front of him. He felt like he was in another universe watching the display through a set of eyes that weren't his own, but the pleasure spiking through his mind reminded him that this was very much real.

The fox continued to bob up and down, his gasps of pleasure mixing with Donk's grunts as the room filled with the sound of their sex. The process continued for a few minutes, each of them slowly reaching their edges with each thrust. He felt a pressure building in him that took over his mind in a blind drive to thrust himself in as deeply as he could. He looped his arms up and over the foxes shoulders, grasping him tightly in his grip. For a moment they both knew what was about to happen, and the next he pulled down while thrusting upwards, hilting his shaft deep within the fox as his head flared and his seed shot out. He let out a long groan of pleasure, mixing with the fox's moan of ecstasy as his own member shot out across the bed, staining the sheets with a few spurts of white globs. The fox's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his lolled out of his mouth as his mind collapsed under an avalanche of pleasure.

Donk's seed oozed out from the fox as he fell back against Donk's chest. The goo pooled on the bed sheets where they lay, and a part of Donk's mind wondered if the owner of the house would be mad, but then he stopped caring, hugging his arms around the fox and drifting away into sleep in a puddle of his own mess.

"I'm not gay," he muttered once more before he fell into unconsciousness.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn't gay.

He wasn't gay when an angry house owner woke him up and beat him with a broom while hastily dressed, his fox companion no where to be seen.

He wasn't gay when he ran outside and jumped over the people asleep on the front lawn, diving into his car and fishing into his pockets for the keys.

He wasn't gay when he pulled out his keys and a scrap of paper with a phone number and a winking face fell out with them, promising nothing other than a chance at seeing where the night might pick off from.

He wasn't gay when he drove away from the battered house to his own, mind stuck contemplating the nights events.

And he certainly wasn't gay when he punched the number into his phone a few nights later. Not at all. Not one bit.

He wasn't gay.


End file.
